


Ecdysiast

by CeliaEquus



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Capsicoul - Freeform, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Get Together, Het, Kink Meme, Lingerie, Prompt Fic, Requited Crush, Strip Tease, Underwear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:45:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1692140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeliaEquus/pseuds/CeliaEquus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil catches Stephanie Rogers wearing Captain America lingerie.  It doesn't help that he has a crush on her.  But Steph doesn't seem to mind.</p><p>Based on two prompts, one from Avengers Assemble, and one from CapKink.</p><p>Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or any other Marvel thingummies, nor am I making money from this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ecdysiast

Ecdysiast: a strip-teaser

From ecdysis: the action of stripping or casting off

"Captain Rogers! You weren't answering the alert! It's time to ass…"

Stephanie whirled around, and her jaw dropped when Agent Coulson's voice trailed off. His eyes roamed down her body and back up again, and Stephanie's cheeks felt like they were on fire.

The Rogers family had never been well off; underwear was practical, and worn until there were more holes than there was fabric. No fripperies like garters or stockings. They understood at church, especially once the Depression hit. Then there was war. While she wanted to fight, Stephanie knew the way would be hard, and joined as a nurse (because, to be honest, she knew a hell of a lot about medicine). If it wasn't for the serum, she would have just found some other way to reach the front line, and find Bucky.

Of course, there was no time for indulging herself with fancy lingerie even after she could afford it. Not with the Howling Commandoes. And Bucky jokingly told her that if any of the men caught her in lace and satin, her virtue would be at serious danger. She took him at his word, and continued to play the part of wholesome Captain America, at least in public. Even though she looked in shop windows longingly any time the Commandoes had to travel through a town. If only…

Then she crashed, woke up seventy years later, and found that her money had been taken care of by Stark Industries. Really taken care of. She could buy the garter and stockings, the fanciest she wanted.

Slipping them on at home, Steph fell in love. If she was going to splurge on anything, she decided, it would be this. After all, undergarments are a necessity in life.

It, in a word, snowballed.

Now her underwear drawers – yes, drawers; thank you, Pepper – were filled with sets of lacy, satiny, silky sets of underwear. Some had bows. Some were patterned. And… well… there was this auction, and someone had designed one-of-a-kind Avengers-themed women's underwear. And… it was for charity! Honestly, that's the only reason Steph bought the whole range. Anonymously.

…Maybe not the only reason, but that was her little secret. No one else knew about these. Except, now, for the Avengers' handler.

"Phil," she said, and she cleared her throat. "Uh…"

"Sorry," he said, and he turned on his heel. "Trouble uptown. Could be Doom, or a Doom wannabe. Clearly the music was too loud for you to hear…" He coughed. "See you downstairs."

"Okay," she said softly. Phil nodded, still with his back to her, and strode out of the room.

Steph's blush wasn't going away anytime soon. She turned off the music, and quickly slipped into her suit, before grabbing her shield. She pulled on her boots while the elevator shot down to the garage, and then strapped on her belt just before she got to Lola. Bruce, Clint, and Natasha were already in the backseat, and Phil was settling himself into the driver's seat. That left the passenger seat beside him as the only free space. Steph kept her game face on, buckled herself in place, and rested the shield on her feet, between her knees and the glove box.

"Took you long enough, Rogers," Clint said, poking her shoulder. She pursed her lips, and waited a beat before replying.

"I was listening to music," she said. "I obviously got distracted. It won't happen again."

"You should ask JARVIS—"

"JARVIS does more than enough," Steph said. "He already baby-sits Tony. He shouldn't have to look after us just as much. I don't want to overload him."

"Aw, aren't you sweet? Tony will love you for that." She rolled her eyes, even though Clint couldn't see it. "That's why Phil baby-sits us."

At the mention of the agent, Steph's gaze slid across to him. There was a dusky pink hue to his cheeks, and he carefully wasn't looking at her. Or speaking to her.

Steph was uncomfortably aware of the bulge around her thigh. She rubbed it, the hidden garter giving under her touch, only to pop back into place after she moved her hand away. She looked up when she heard a low whimper, just in time to see Phil's eyes move from her lap. He shifted in his seat, and the redness on his cheeks deepened as he pursed his lips.

With a soundless gasp, Stephanie Rogers looked straight ahead. Agent Coulson really _was_ checking her out.

…Well, gosh.

 

How he got through the battle, Phil didn't know. It was likely some deep, ingrained instinct had kept his mind on the job. He was good at compartmentalising. For example, Miss Stephanie Rogers. Yep. A perfect example. Just as with every super-hero and –heroine, she had her alter ego, Captain America.

(Boys and girls alike read her comics; but Phil's mom had always emphasised that Stephanie Rogers was a woman doing what was seen as a man's work. Between Captain America and Julie Coulson, it was no wonder Phil had such high respect for women, especially strong women. It was probably why the Black Widow liked him so much.)

Now he would need three compartments: Captain America, Miss Rogers, and Stephanie-in-lingerie.

He couldn't get the image out of his mind. Phil never objectified women – or men – except in situations where he had to remind himself that they were Bad People. To put it bluntly, Bad People needed to be taken out; Phil couldn't allow himself to flinch at taking a human life if the human in question deserved to die. So he didn't think of them as people.

Before he could become maudlin, Phil tried to distract himself with pleasant thoughts. However, the only good memory that he could conjure up was from earlier that day, when he went to Stephanie's room.

He leaned back in his office chair, recollecting it in perfect detail. The music blasted out the bedroom door as soon as he opened it. He entered, calling Miss Rogers to assemble, when he realised what he was seeing. She was dancing in place before her mirror, singing along to 'Man, I Feel Like a Woman', and wearing the Captain America-themed underwear he had once – only once! – imagined her wearing. It was just a brief thought he'd had at the auction, and dismissed it at once. Now she was dancing and singing in front of him, in skimpy red-white-and-blue lingerie (with strategically placed shields), like a wet dream. Better than anything he'd ever imagined.

Debrief had been… hard, knowing that she was sporting _that_ underwear beneath the costume he had designed for her. It didn't help that she shuffled in her seat every few minutes, and even rubbed her thigh a few times, where the garter clung to her skin…

Goddamnit. How was he going to face her again? He'd been doing such a good job keeping his crush to himself. And now she would know. If not know, then guess.

Well, as long as neither of them ever mentioned it, it never happened.

 

Two days later, things seemed quiet on the supervillain front, probably because they'd done such a damn good job the other day. Phil supposedly had the day off, and was planning to take Lola for a long drive, and try to sort his head out. Of course, he wasn't that lucky; that was the day Stephanie Rogers asked him to come to her room 'for a chat'. Phil kept his torture training at the front of his mind as he took the elevator to her floor.

He stepped out as soon as the doors open, only to run – literally – into Natasha, who was carrying what looked like a waxing kit. He began to apologise, but she just smirked.

"Not a problem, Phil," she said. He gaped as she passed him, and then spun around on her heel after she pressed the button. "Thanks for waiting, JARVIS."

"Of course, Agent Romanov."

"Have a nice day, Phil," she added, giving him a little wave. He continued to stare until the doors closed, wondering what the hell that was all about.

"Agent Coulson?" He whirled around, unnerved that Steph had managed to sneak up on him like that. "I think we need to talk."

He nodded shortly, and followed her to the living room. She indicated the middle of the sofa, and perched on the opposite armchair after he was seated. While he waited for her to begin, Phil took in her appearance. Her hair was back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a navy blue blouse and denim skirt. He didn't dare look lower than that, or his mind would probably plummet straight back into stocking-territory, and that would make things more uncomfortable, to say the least. He cleared his throat, and Steph sighed.

"You treat me differently to Natasha," she said.

"I've known her much longer, Miss Rogers," Phil said. "And she's an agent of SHIELD."

"But we both work with you now," Steph said. "I would've thought you'd have the same dynamics with each of us."

"Captain—"

"And sometimes I get the feeling that you don't think of me as a woman; just a comic book character and a soldier. Not… not me."

Phil frowned. "I treat you both with the respect such strong people deserve."

"Women," she said. "Not just 'people'; we're both women." She swallowed, and looked down at the carpet. "I know I'm not as pretty as Natasha—"

"What?" he blurted.

"I said—"

"I heard what you said. I just have trouble believing it."

"You saying I'm a liar?"

"No, of course not," Phil said. "But you're just as…" He groaned, and rubbed his face. "Natasha is… she's a modern beauty. You're a classic beauty. There's a difference, Stephanie."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "You think I'm beautiful?" Phil's shoulders sagged.

"Yes," he said, dropping his hands from his face. "Yes, I do."

Steph's face lit up. "I appreciate that. It's nice not to be treated like a damsel in distress, because I'm not one, same as Natasha. And I think everyone else makes the effort to treat me the same. It seems like they take their cues from you."

"They probably know that I'd make them sit through a lecture on how to treat women with respect," Phil remarked.

"But next to Natasha…" Steph shrugged. "I can't help comparing myself to her, because she's the only other superheroine I know. The only time I feel like a girl is when I wear girls' clothes, like these." She picked at the fabric of the blouse. "Natasha doesn't seem to have that problem."

"Have you talked to her about this?" Phil asked, tilting his head. "Is that why she was here?"

"N-no," Steph said, and her gaze dropped as her cheeks turned pink. "That's not why she was here."

Phil paused, and then said, "Sorry. It's none of my business."

"I wouldn't say that," she muttered.

"Miss Rogers?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. Then she frowned slightly. "I wish you'd call me Stephanie. You did before."

"Did I?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

Steph made eye contact with him again, and then stood up quickly. When Phil went to stand, she pushed on his shoulders to make him stay. Wary, he watched her shove the armchair back with her foot.

"Do you see me as a woman?" she asked over her shoulder as she walked in the direction of her shield. Phil swallowed.

"More than you know," he murmured. Then, aware of her super hearing, he coughed. "I mean, yes."

"I heard you the first time," she said. There was that edge of amusement again. Phil could feel the heat in his cheeks, and ducked his head. This conversation had veered off in so many different directions that he was having trouble picking up the main path. He raised his eyes in time to see Steph heading back towards him with her shield in hand.

"Uh…"

"Will you prove it to me?" she said.

"…I'm sorry?"

"Do you like me?" she asked, stopping in front of him, only a foot away. He nodded. "Do you have a… a crush on me? Natasha thinks you do."

"So _that's_ what her visit was about?" Steph didn't reply. "I would've thought it was embarrassingly obvious by now that I _do_ have feelings for you, Miss Rogers."

"Don't be embarrassed," she said, and then she smiled slyly. "I like it."

"You…" Phil wondered whether he was dreaming.

"It isn't in any of my 'biographies'," Steph said, as she bent over and picked up a remote from the coffee table she'd clearly moved out of the way earlier, "but I once met Gypsy Rose Lee at a canteen, during one of the Commandoes' trips back to the States. I never had to dance when selling bonds, but she taught me some of her moves. I don't think the army would've allowed Captain America to perform them in public." She giggled, and pressed something on the remote as she aimed it at the sound system. It took Phil a few seconds to place the music. When he did, he clenched his fists at his sides and took steadying breaths. It was a jazz version of 'The Star-Spangled Girl'.

Steph moved back to stand in front of him, about a yard away now. She held her shield in front of her. He saw the first few buttons of her blouse come undone, but the rest were hidden by the shield. All the while, her hand moved down. Then she flicked the blouse open, and slipped it off one arm, then the other, before tossing it to the side. It hit the floor with a whisper, but Phil's attention was arrested by the chain around Steph's neck. It almost looked like a dog tag chain…

"I know I'm not much of an ecdysiast," she said, and Phil's gaze snapped to meet hers. There was a pretty flush over the part of her chest that he could see. He should have felt more guilty about ogling a national icon; but this national icon was performing a private striptease for him.

"You're doing just fine," he said, his voice noticeably hoarse.

The next thing to go was the skirt. Judging by the way her hand moved, it had a zip at the side. She drew it down smoothly, and with a slight shimmy, it fell to the ground around her ankles. She stepped out of it, using one foot to kick it to the side… and that was when Phil noticed the strappy, heeled shoes with wooden soles. He couldn't help peeking at her legs, and saw the shine of sheer stockings encasing strongly-muscled calves. If his blood hadn't already begun to relocate south, that was enough to do it.

Then he realised that Steph was lowering the shield. All it took was one glance at the dark grey bra straps, and he had to shift in his seat. Slowly, more was revealed. The swell of her breasts came into view, as well as the dog tags nestled between them. Phil only just managed not to groan again. Then Steph paused, and took a step closer in time with the music. She continued to lower her shield, revealing her breasts in their entirety, covered with… a SHIELD-issued bra. Holy mother of God.

"Christ," Phil said. Steph chuckled, causing her chest to bounce and her stomach muscles to contract. "Stephanie…"

"That's it," she cooed. Then she let the shield slide down her legs to rest on her feet, revealing the SHIELD-issue underpants… with a difference.

"Is that…?"

"The eagle in my colours?" she said. "Yes. I spent last night painting that on. Just for you, Agent Coulson."

He met her eyes again, but didn't comment. Not until she rolled her shield away, and finally stepped forward into his space. She ran a finger down his cheek and along the line of his jaw.

"I didn't think you really wanted _me_ ," she said. "I wanted you to, but you never showed any signs…"

"I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable," he said.

"Have I made you uncomfortable?"

Phil couldn't stop his grin. "Only in the best ways."

With a bright smile of her own, Steph swiftly straddled his lap, knees either side of his hips and arms bracketing him. She gingerly rocked against him, immediately pulling back as soon as she made contact with his hard-on. She gasped softly.

"Would you like to help me shed the rest of this skin?" she asked. Phil vaguely registered that the music had come to an end, and he grasped her waist.

"Here, or in bed?" he asked.

"I don't care where we do it, just as long as you're inside me in the next ten minutes. Make it five, and I'll blow you later. Though." She bit his ear; this time, he definitely moaned. "I'd probably still want to swallow you down, but I figure the extra incentive might get you hot and bothered enough just to drill me into the sofa." That answered the question of whether she was sure about this.

With a strangled sound, Phil kissed her deeply. Steph melted in his arms, letting him kiss the breath out of her lungs. He used the distraction to unclasp the bra, run his hands along her legs and knock off the shoes, and then pull her flush against him. By the time he released her mouth, she had to draw in a huge breath, causing her chest to expand against his. That was when he remembered that he was still fully clothed. With some truly amazing acrobatics, he had her on her back, panties thrown to the side somewhere, his shoes off and fly undone, and pants pulled down far enough to release himself. She'd hidden a condom in her bra, and he slipped it on while she shuffled until one leg was over the back of the couch and the other was around his waist. In just under the five minutes he was pushing inside of her. She swore forcefully.

"How could you not think that you're absolutely gorgeous?" Phil whispered, stroking her cheeks. She raised her head, pulled out her hair band and tossed it aside, and shook her hair out so that it fanned around her. She looked like a pin-up girl. "God, Stephanie, you're so beautiful."

A single tear fell down her cheek, and she cupped his face with her right hand. "Thank you, sir."

"Call me Phil."

"Phil, will you be my feller?"

His heart actually stopped for a moment. "Only if you're my girl."

"I always have been."

He leaned down and kissed her again. She pulled him in deeper, and his mind went blank. He held onto the thoughts of torture training while he wrestled his body under control. Once it was safe to continue, he pulled out, and then thrust back in. She shuddered, and went limp again. He slipped his hands beneath her back, and attached his mouth to the closest nipple. Steph cried out, and her hands scrabbled on everything; his back, the sofa, his hair. She settled for clutching the arm of the furniture behind her, and Phil heard the wood creaking. He kissed his way back up her neck to her lips, then down the other side, and suckled a bruise onto her collarbone. All the while, he maintained a relentless pace, paying heed to her breathy pleas for more. He moved one hand down her stomach to the smooth juncture between her legs, just above the point where he was rapidly moving in and out of her body. (So that's why Natasha had a waxing kit.) He pressed down on Steph's clitoris, and her swearing took a colourful turn.

Using his hips to tilt her, Phil was able to dive just that bit deeper. He sucked more bruises into her skin, licked every inch of her breasts, until it became necessary to capture her lips again. He played her tightening body until it snapped. There was a loud, splintering crack, and Steph screamed into his mouth. Phil scooped her close as he came, and murmured her name into the skin of her cheek.

"There, sweetheart," he whispered, "it's all right, baby. I've got you. Just relax."

She let out a single sob, and pressed her lips to his. He cradled her, riding out the waves until he was soft enough to slip out. He discovered that both of her legs were now wrapped around him, and turned them so that his back was to the room, and she was tucked safely between Phil and the cushions of the sofa. He kissed her more gently this time, and stroked her side with his free hand. He encountered silk, and laughed when he realised that they'd never removed her knee-highs. A look confirmed that they were badly torn.

"I'm afraid these are beyond repair," he said, fingering some of the hole in them. Steph waved a hand.

"Worth it," she declared. Then their eyes met again, and he saw fear. "You don't have to be my feller, if you don't want to. I'd like it, but I can be happy with one time. I have before."

"I'd love to be your feller," Phil said. Something about her old-fashioned vernacular spoke to him, that this was really special. "I feel like I should be taking you out for a soda at a diner, but I might be getting my decades mixed up."

"You? Never." She caressed the shell of his ear. "Maybe not right now. I don't want to get up just yet." She looked at his chest, and giggled. "We never did get you out of the rest of your clothes."

"There's time for that."

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a prompt on the Avengers Assemble kink meme (round 20, page 13) and a prompt on CapKink (Live Journal, round 002, page 5). The first involved fem!Steve loving lingerie, and the second involved Steve or fem!Steve doing a striptease using the shield. I decided that they should definitely be combined, and Capsicoul-ed. Because this is me, and I'm trying to encourage Capsicoul goodness. After 'Cap 2', Stucky has become more popular, so I'd also like to encourage Bucky/Phil/Steve.
> 
> Anyhow. Definitions at the start taken from the Oxford English Dictionary online; and the canteen which Cap refers to is like the Hollywood Canteen. See Google for further details.
> 
> Please review!


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